Gₒₒd ₒₗd₋Fₐₛₕᵢₒₙₑd ₗₒᵥₑᵣ Bₒy ~ Dᵢᵣₖ Gₑₙₜₗy

The Comfort Of Good Company

It was rare for Sicillian to wake up before Dirk, but today was one of those days where she just couldn't sleep. It had been eight months since they'd returned Francis to Wendimoore, saving an entire dimension. The thought still being a little unfamiliar to them. Inter-dimensional travel was in its own league.

She untangled herself from his arms quietly, not wanting to wake the brit. It had been a nice eight months. They hadn't had any cases, but that didn't really bother any of the team. The four were glad to have a break, to sit back and be functioning members of society. Life had been good. Sicillian especially had been thankful for their easy descent back into regularity, finally getting the semi-normal life she dreamed of. Well, normal as you can get dating a pyschic detective and running his place of work with your two best friends. It wasn't totally ordinary, but that was never going to work for her.

Todd's pararibulitus had gotten better. He still had attacks, but not nearly as frequent. Farah especially had become a seasoned pro at dealing with them and helping him calm down. Amanda had visited once or twice, just in passing. Her, Beast and the Rowdy Three had been tracking the same Blackwing subject for months on end, a woman who could erase people from memory or reality entirely. Normally they'd have found her by now, but due to her unique ability, it was hard to find reports of such a person. She could make others forget they'd ever seen her.

Mona was around also, taking the form of various objects. She didn't seem to mind in the slightest, and after rigorous checking, the four found she really preferred it to being something living, but still asked politely if it was alright before asking her to turn into something. Just the other day, Dirk had been grouchy that Farah had accidentally spilt wine on his trademark yellow jacket while out at dinner one night, so while it was at the cleaners, Mona took its form instead.

Sicillian regretted stepping out of bed the moment she did so. All warmth leeched out of her, and she winced as her feet found the floor. It was freezing. Nevertheless, she pulled on some socks and headed downstairs, yawning slightly. Upon entering the kitchen, she was greeted with the sight of a certain dark haired man, talking to a digital clock. Normally this would have been a weird scene, but the Hollistic Assistant already knew the clock was Mona.

The ex bellhop waved over, and the brunette woman padded softly to his side, staring at the clock. Her suspicions were confirmed as the LED display turned from the time to a message that read:

Good morning Sicillian

"And a good morning to you too, Mona." She smiled, opening the fridge and grabbing a slice of leftover pizza. Not the most nutritious breakfast, but did it really matter?

"You're up early." Todd observed with a weary expression.

"Eh, it happens." She shrugged, taking a pause to bite into the food she was holding, the both good and bad taste of cold pepperoni overtaking her mouth. Refrigerated pizza was a guilty pleasure. "You alright?"

"Yeah, if not a little tired. Coffee machine is screwed again, though." Sicillian let out an exasperated sigh. This was the third time this month their, rather expensive, espresso machine had been broken. The clock on the window sill vibrated a little, and they turned back to see it reading:

Want me to do it?

"No Mona, that's alright, I can just have tea. I appreciate the offer though." The green eyed American smiled.

"Dirk's rubbing off on you. I think I even heard you say 'Bloody hell' the other day." The non-holistic assistant chuckled, downing the glass of orange juice he was holding.

"I guess so." The taller of the two frowned for a second, remembering something. "Hey, I heard you go back to your room last night, everything okay with Farah?" The Detective Agency had three rooms above it, one for Farah, one for Todd and one for Dirk and Sicillian. However, it was common knowledge that the ex bellhop usually stayed in the bodyguard's room, unless they'd had some altercation.